


Red Hot's

by Miss221b



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cute, Fluff, Funny, Ireland, M/M, Nicknames, Sabriel - Freeform, St. Patrick's Day, Trickster Gabriel, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss221b/pseuds/Miss221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam should have known. Gabriel had been getting antsy again. He had been snapping at Dean every time Sam’s brother provoked him. Every time Sam turned around, his lover was right behind him, staring into the distance, irritated. But the thing that really should have set Sam thinking was the damn Red Hot’s. </p><p>Or that one where Gabriel is stir-crazy and absurdly in love with Sam.</p><p>Runner up in the Supernatural Monthly Challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Hot's

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a supernatural monthly challenge, and won runner up. I really enjoyed writing this. Sabriel doubled as my OTP while writing, and I had to take multiple breathers so I didn’t explode from feels. It’s also the first one I’ve written that isn’t weechesters, which is a weird thing with me. I really hope yall enjoy this!

Sam should have known. Gabriel had been getting antsy again. He had been snapping at Dean every time Sam’s brother provoked him, which was nearly every day. Every time Sam turned around, his lover was _right behind him_ , staring into the distance, irritated. But the thing that really should have set Sam thinking was the damn Red Hot’s.

            After Gabriel had popped up, conveniently not dead last year with only a cheeky smile, a “Hey Sammich,” and Smarties, Sam had had time to get to truly know the angel. He had become Sam’s Angel, and Sam knew all about his angel’s candy fixation. He knew about the small factories in China where, in the 1600’s, all the best candy was. Sam knew what flavor suited Gabriel for whatever day of the week, and month of the year. And Sam _knew_ what candy his angel snacked on what he was about to burst.

 _Arguable,_ Sam muttered to himself as he stood in the midst of the crowded celebration, searching for Gabriel. Sam, apparently, had only thought he knew, or else he would have been able to take preventative measures for said bursting. That made the youngest Winchester chuckle to himself. Okay, so not so much with the “preventing” then the “damage control.”

That was another thing Sam had taken to learning since Gabriel showed back up. There is not wrath like that of an Archangel, and Sam knew that stopping Gabriel could never ever be the game plan. A bed full of (poison-less) snakes and a constant drip on every faucet in the bunker for a week had really ironed that into Sam. No, he much more preferred to see what was coming, hunker up behind his wildly laughing angel and bear whatever “plan” the said angel came up with.

Unfortunately, this time Sam had no such occasion to prepare himself. He was sorting through all of Dean’s hand-selected meat in the fridge for some greens when Gabriel had spoken up from behind him, “Sam-a-Lamb, it’s time we take a vacation.”

            Most of the time it seemed Gabriel was living in an eternal vacation. Dean was usually the one to grumble about it. The ultimate travel rights, the luscious young girls and bountiful feasts with less than a flick of a finger. Sure, it seemed pretty nice. But when Gabriel claimed a room in the bunker right next to Sam’s (a façade of course, he spent all his time in Sam’s room) he had carved a niche in the young hunter’s heart. Gabriel had wormed his way into Sam’s existence, and when a drunk Sam confessed such, the smug angel just grinned and said cheekily, “Well I guess then I’m a gummy worm.” Sam woke up to find Gummy Worms on his dresser every morning for months. It was sweet, and Sam knew it was Gabriel’s way of telling Sam that he was just as much of a “Gummy Worm” as Gabriel. That Gabriel needed his human like Sam needed his angel.

            But that’s just what Gabriel was; sweet and secretly tender and oh so broken. Gabriel’s life wasn’t a vacation, it was a relentless chase. A chase for, not necessarily peace, but something akin to it. Sam thought that if the world suddenly stopped fighting, if there really was peace, that Gabriel wouldn’t be able to handle it. He was so used to chasing something, he would never be able to stop.

            Every day they intercepted another traitor angel it got worse inside Gabriel until Sam finally realized what he was chasing. It wasn’t the world he used to live in, where his family got along, nor a world where the conflict had ended, either through diplomacy or bloodshed. It wasn’t about the angels and demons at all. Gabriel was chasing _Gabriel._ He was chasing a place where, no matter the conflict, it was okay for him to be alive, and breathing, and touching and kissing and _seeing and_

            And Sam knew Gabriel was guilty at his very core; it was what he was built of. He didn’t care what his family did, he just cared that he could stop for a moment, and be able to look at himself without the candle of shame he had lit coloring the reflection.

            Sam was pretty sure that his heart shattered every time he thought about it, but he tried not to mind because his lover would always inadvertently find some ridiculously sappy way to put it back together, each time sealed with a little bit more of Gabriel. Sam was pretty sure that the obsession and love he felt for the angel was borderline scary, but Sam had been raised on fear. Gabriel was made of guilt, and Sam of fear.

            _That seems about right_ , Sam decided.

            So Gabriel hung around the bunker, followed Sam around incessantly, and hunted like a badass archangel until it all built up a little too much and he snapped. It was never a bad snap though, and Sam figured that even if it was it wouldn’t matter. Usually it was Gabriel just gathering Sam into his arms and disappearing with him for weeks on end. It frustrated Dean to no end, which always made Gabriel laugh when he brought Sam back.

            This time was no different. Sam didn’t feel any anger when the solid hand landed on his shoulder, he just relaxed back into it. He did wish, however, that he could have been able to pack his own clothes. The things Gabriel could conjure up for him sometimes made him want to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. A useless defense mechanism, of course. Gabriel would just follow him into the hole and whine until Sam crawled back out in an irritated affection.

            But when he opened his eyes, they certainly were not in a hole. Sam turned around slowly, taking in the beautiful sight before him. The slopping, pale green hills were kind to the eye and seemed to go on forever.

            _Defiantly in Europe_ , Sam decided as he peered around, _England maybe?_

            When he completed a full rotation, he came face to face with Gabriel, who had that smile. It was Sam’s favorite thing in the world, because it meant that Gabriel was okay and happy and carefree, even if it is only just for a few weeks. And a little piece of him was pleased that it happened because he was there with Sam. Alright, maybe not so little a piece.

            “Alright Wings, where are we this time?”

            Gabriel just stepped gently forward, linked his arm through Sam’s, and tugged him until they were walking through the breathtaking landscape. The angel ignored Sam’s question with a pleased smile and silence. It was so cliché that Gabriel’s truly happy place was strolling through a field with Sam on his arm. But Gabriel had a tendency to be cliché when it happened to suit him.

            They walked for half an hour, until what had been a speck on the horizon became a town in front of them. Sam focused on a sign post they were approaching, and recognized the Irish writing.

            “Ireland?”  Sam asked, with eyebrows raised. As they stepped onto the moderately crowded outer street Gabriel swung around to face Sam, while walking backwards. How he navigated through the people was something Sam didn’t even try to understand. (Was there some archangel power that allowed you to walk backwards through a plethora of people? That seemed slightly… impractical)

            “Do you know what today is Samsquatch?”

            Sam raised an eyebrow, unconcerned with the fact that an answer didn’t immediately jump to mind. Anniversaries were great, but Gabriel wasn’t the type of person (angel?) to be able to contain himself for an entire year till one day popped up again. A flash caught his eye as someone decked out completely and ridiculously in green skipped past him. Ah.

            “St. Patrick’s Day,” Sam murmured, wary of the holiday. Didn’t it have something to do with mischief? Gabriel didn’t need any more prompting on that topic.

            “Ding, ding, ding!” Gabriel sing-songed, “give the moose a prize!” The angel’s fingers snapped and Sam looked down to find a medal pinned to his shirt, the middle of which containing an engraving of a smiling moose and the outer rim Irish writing which Sam regarded carefully. It could read anything. Still, he made no move to remove it and just shook his head before stepping closer to his lover.

            “Great, so we’ve established one thing, now how ‘bout another?” He breathed, leaning closer to Gabriel’s lips. The angel, on the other hand, had other ideas. He stepped backwards with a devious smirk (did he even have another expression?) and continued talking.

            “Sam,” arms were linked again, “This lovely landscape, the voracious village, this spectacular spot,” after a successful glance to see if he had annoyed Sam enough, “is the Irish town of Downpatrick.”

            His human rolled his eyes, then looked around him.

            “It really is beautiful,” he agreed.

            When Sam said nothing more, Gabriel huffed and began again, “St. Patrick’s day is pretty awesome around here.” Sam was just smiling at him, “Wanna try to guess _why?_ ”

            “Nah, I’m good. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna tell me.”

            Gabriel punched Sam in the arm, dragging chuckles out of the both of them.

            “The town of Downpatrick,” Gabriel had swung back in front of him to tell his story, and Sam was going to get whiplash already, “Lovely town, wonderful people, and the place of death for my dear friend Patrick.”

            Sam raised an eyebrow, “You knew St. Patrick?” Although he really wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t be anymore, not after Gabriel retold the “Legit and Totally Correct Version of How I Told Mary She Was Prego.”

            “Hell yeah I did! I mean, we didn’t really get along. At all. He was all about using the powers of good and I was all about –“

            “Being a complete and utter asshat?”

            Gabriel grinned, “Bingo. You know me so well Samsquatch.”

            “No, no I got that bit the very first time I met you.”

            “Hm, well then what has been the point of our relationship after that?”

            “I suppose there hasn’t been one.”

            “Completely and utterly useless.”

            “Oh well,” Sam grinned.

            “And I wasted all that candy on you,” Gabriel pretended to pout.

            “Hey, at least the sex was good,” Sam leaned into his lips, smirking slightly.

            “Mmm Sam-a-lamb, you really know how to get in my pants,” Gabriel murmured against Sam’s lips, coming close to kissing him, before pulling away with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

            “But, my dear boy, I did bring you here for a reason beside awesome mind-blowing Saintly sex.”

            “Damn,” Sam muttered, feigning disappointment while watching the celebrations around him with interest.

            “Fear not Winchester, it’s still high on the list. I just couldn’t stand to be in that bunker with that condescending brother of yours one more moment. I swear to dad, one more day and the next time he got out of the shower and looked down-“

            Sam silence him with a kiss, and promised, “I don’t want to know.”

            “Sure?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

            “Oh yeah, absolutely and defiantly.”

            Gabriel gave a dramatic sigh, and looked at Sam as though he had just stepped on his puppy. Or pile of candy. Yeah, probably the candy.

            “Well kiddo, I figured if we were gonna go anywhere, and we _were_ , I would at least try to take you into account and make it something educational. Ya know, cultural and sexy _at the same time_.”

            The excitement on his mate’s face brought out a smile on Sam’s. Gabriel _did_ take Sam into account, every time. This time though, he seemed to be seeking praise for it, and it really was sweet that they were there, a historical landmark instead of at one of the insane parties Gabe could frickin _smell_. So yeah, Sam had not problem giving him the praise, as he pulled him in and kissed him again.

            “Onwards and upwards Sammy,” the angel whispered roughly as he pulled away, ever smiling. He grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him down the increasingly crowded street. As they passed the people, all decked out in green and clovers, Gabriel whispered into Sam’s ear.

            “That one goes to a nudist camp every October and tells his office he is going to a mental health retreat.” Sam winced.

            “He’s wearing his girlfriend’s panties,” Sam slapped Gabriel on the arm.

            “She likes fish,” Sam held his breath, waiting for the inevitable rest to come, “Like, _likes_ them Sam.” Sam refused to acknowledge him.

            “Sam. Sammy. _Saaamm_.”

            “Jesus Gabriel, yes I get it she has sex with fish. I’m not even going to ask how that works, now could you please,” He turned around to face his lover and saw the angel holding out a bag of Swedish Fish. He hoped the look he leveled at him portrayed how completely in bad taste the candy was. If it did, Gabriel didn’t care. He just shrugged and brought the bag closer to himself.

            “Whatever kid, if you don’t want any it’s just more for me. Maybe I should ask her if she wants some…”

            Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him into the store they were next to, desperate to break line of sight with the poor woman.

            “An Siopa Seoda,” Gabriel proclaimed immediately, “ _The Store of Treasures._ A complete tourist trap, of course, but I hear they have a great selection of…” He wandered off, leaving Sam to shake his head. Trying to get the angel to stop talking for a moment was as pointless as waiting for Dean and Castiel to acknowledge their epic gay love. It just wasn’t gonna happen. Sam let himself wander a bit, looking over the shot glasses with clovers painted on and brightly colored green T-shirts until he heard Gabriel make a sound a triumph across the cozy store. Fear tickled Sam’s spine, but also a bit of curiosity. He was making his way over to where Gabriel stood when the angel caught sight of him and held up the “treasure” he had discovered.

            The garishly green and absurdly tight boxers were made of some horrid incandescent material that shimmered in the artificial light. Sam didn’t know whether to wince or give the angel a bitch face, but he had the chance to do neither. A man, a sales associate by the look of it, came over to Gabriel with a huge smile on his face and began talking. In Irish. And Gabriel _talked back_. He held up the offensive object and gestured to Sam wildly with that horrible grin on his face. The man glanced over at Sam and smiled to, winking at him. Yep, Sam was defiantly going with wincing.  The conversation continued as the man indicated towards several other pairs of boxers, but Gabriel seemed set on the pair he was clutching. He pulled a wad of cash out of his back pocket that Sam knew had not been there a moment ago and handed it to the man, who finally waved at the blasted angel and parted.

            Gabriel’s eyebrows were wriggling madly as he approached Sam, holding the underwear up.

            “Happy St. Patrick’s Day my dear Sammich.”

            “Gabriel,” Sam began through clenched teeth, “something tells me this is more for you than for me.”

            Gabriel inspected the boxers with pursed lips before smiling at Sam.

            “Your right, kiddo. I can’t wait to see you in these.” He winked and shoved them into his jacket before grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling him back onto the streets.

            They wandered around for hours. Gabriel whispered horrible things into Sam’s ear, and Sam ignored him. Gabriel stopped at every candy store they passed, and Sam at every bookstore. They laughed at the awkward architecture, and went into hysterics over the awkward people. The crowds became thicker and thicker until they were in the center of the city. Above the buzz of the crowd came the sound of music. It was the heavy and clumsy sound of a band, and Sam turned to look at Gabriel with an eyebrow raised.          

            “The parade,” the angel said, excitement lighting his eyes. Sam smiled too, and they walked toward the joyous sounds with arms linked and hands together.

            They pushed their way through the throngs of people to get to the front and watch the procession. There were numerous floats made of Paper Mache and by a child’s hand, but they were beautiful with the cloves of flowers none the less. The costumes both in the parade and out were fabulous. Green leprechaun suits were made of green felt, and the beards of brown. The music sounded better closer up, and Sam felt himself swaying with it against Gabriel, who joined in as well, another grin on his face when he looked up and saw Sam’s. They dance in the tight space and sang a bit and laughed until Gabriel caught sight of something above them.

            “Hey kid,” He pulled gently on Sam, who looked at him in confusion but followed him as the angel pulled them out of the crowd and away from the street. Gabriel pulled them into a large building across the street, a hotel by the looks of it. It didn’t match the eclectic and old fashion feel of the rest of the town with the huge marble lobby and fountains, but it still struck Sam as cozy. Gabriel talked to the man at the desk for only a moment before turning back to Sam and winking. He grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the elevator. As soon as they were out of sight, Sam felt the familiar pull and upon blinking found himself outside two huge, ornate doors.

            Gabriel whistled to himself as he pushed the doors open and marched inside.

            “Really, Gabe?” Sam rolled his eyes, “You couldn’t just wait to ride the elevator?”

            “I didn’t want to miss anymore of the parade,” his angel said matter-of-factly as he threw open the balcony doors and gestured towards Sam.

            Sam chuckled as he walked out into the cool evening air. The view was spectacular. He could see the hills around them, and the parade happening only a floor below them. Sam though that he could reach down and touch the tops of some of the floats.

            “Now we get parade,” Gabriel was behind him, speaking against his neck, “Without all the drunk strangers touching you.”

            “Damn,” Sam turned around to press against him, “But that was the best part.”

            “How unfortunate…” The conversation faded out as they kissed languidly, enjoying the privacy and lack of evil monsters trying to kill them. It certainly was a rarity for them. The angel and human could have stood there forever, wrapped up in each other’s arms, but the music reached an extremely loud and unexpected crescendo that had them both jump. Sam was still laughing at the shocked look on his angel’s face when said angel pulled up the huge, comfy bench and table. He pulled Sam down against him and the cushions, before snapping his fingers. A bottle of champagne appeared on the nearby table, and glasses to match.

            Sam curled up against his angel, laughing with him as the night progressed. The bottle was emptied, and a new one was conjured up. It was heavenly stuff, literally. Not so much “champagne,” as ambrosia.

            “Stuff of the god’s kiddo,” Gabriel chuckled at Sam’s face when he first took a sip. It was the only thing Sam knew of that get could an angel drunk. It wasn’t that noticeable of a difference, though, because Gabriel could be regularly categorized as “drunk,” at least by human standards. It took Sam a while to get used to the regular rapid mood swings and crazed behavior of the angel. Even after he did, it was still all about damage control.

            The only real tell when Gabriel was drunk was the increase in sappy love material. His eyes would become glued to Sam, which wasn’t anything new. They were on his face though, admiring the sculpture of his cheeks and slope of his lips instead of his crotch.  There was a darkness in the angel’s eyes, akin to nothing Sam had ever seen, like a churning, liquid amber. When they were focused on Sam, starring holes into him, it terrified him. The only person who had ever looked at him with such love and devotion was Dean, and Sam, after his whole life, was still getting used to that.

            So when he glanced up after a particularly green firework and caught Gabriel gazing at him like Sam was the answer to the entire universe, Sam ducked his head back down. Gabriel lightly gripped his chin and brought him up to his lips.

            “Actually, its 42,” when Sam looked at him questioningly, he continued, “the answer to the universe, that is.” He kissed him and laid back, bringing Sam against his chest.

            “You, Sam Winchester, are the answer to _me._ ”

 

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

 

Sam didn’t know how long they stayed there. And there could mean either the hotel room, Downpatrick, or Ireland. Plenty of time was spent in the room, or more specifically, in the bed. The huge, plush, comfy bed that Sam was sure Gabriel had poofed into existence because that man’s bed standards can fill a list ten pages long. Seriously, Sam had mentioned it _once_ , and had gotten an hour long lecture. He didn’t even know that Gabriel _could_ lecture.

The town had enchanted Sam, even after the celebrations were over. Gabriel already knew that Sam could lecture, but that knowledge was reinforced when Sam began to recognize pieces of the architecture and lore. Honestly, he thought it was precious. The angel wanted to kiss the little lines that gathered between Sam’s eyes when he was thinking hard like that.

Overall, it was a lovely vacation. There were multiple lectures, all of which ended in sex, and so much candy the angel thought for sure a little piece of heaven had broken off and settled itself in Ireland.

They weren’t tired when they went back; they never stayed long enough to become bored and ruin the memory. But Sam had this feeling that it had been more than a week that they had been there, even if Gabriel appeared to be trying to keep that fact from Sam. In the end, it was the books. Sam had collected so many that the hotel room was becoming a little too cramped. After some vigorous physical activity between the two of them and an avalanche of books falling, they both agreed that the books needed to be taken back to the bunker where there were shelves that they could live on without disturbing Gabriel’s sex life.

After accepting the homecoming, Gabriel gathered Sam into his arms in the hotel room and twirled him around, already hyper by just the promise of a change in his surroundings. The radio, which had been on in the corner for days (weeks?) blared what Sam recognized as Taylor Swift. He rolled his eyes, knowing very well that Gabriel had taken a liking to the song after Dean had brought it back to the bunker on full volume. He let Gabriel twirl him around in some crazed dance that only the angel understood before he felt the pressure around him and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were in the bunker, and a relief crashed over Sam. He hadn’t even known he’d been homesick.

The music had apparently followed them, and Gabriel had no intentions of stopping the dance and song routine. As he swung Sam around again, the Winchester caught sight of Garth standing on the other side of the library, watching in what appeared to be amazement.

“Sam,” he stuttered, following the human as he was swung around again. About five seconds later his eyes opened even wider and after breathing, “Dean,” he took off into the bunker.

“What the hell Gabriel,” Sam tried to ask, but the angel just sang louder, “What is going on?”

Dean came running in, panic on his face as his eyes ran wildly over the room before settling on his brother. Garth was only a few steps behind him. His mouth hung open for a moment, before closing. His face adopted a hard, cold expression that Sam feared probably more than any monster out there.

“Dean,” he said at the same time his brother growled, “Gabriel.”

“Your brother is a grown man Dean-o, he can go where he wants,” Gabriel just sing-songed. Something clicked for Sam and he pulled away from the angel, adopting a similar look to Dean’s.

“Wings. How long were we gone?”

Gabriel just shrugged, grinning, and continued dancing by himself. When no answer arose, Dean spoke for him.

“A month.”

Sam gaped at him. That didn’t sound right… it couldn’t be right… how in the world…?

“We’ve talked about this Dean, remember? He’s not a child anymore, you gotta let it go.”

Dean took a menacing step forward, “I thought he was gone you winged douchebag, I have people out looking for him!” Ah, that explained Garth, then.

“Completely unnecessary Winchester,” Gabriel smirked.

Dean dove for him, his fist held back dangerously. Gabriel vanished as the chorus struck again, leaving the words, “It doesn’t look like your shaking it off Dean,” in his wake and a wink for Sam.

So, yeah, Sam totally could have prevented the cold shoulder Dean was giving him, and more disturbingly, the interruption of the sacred laundry cycle. It was his brother’s turn, but he was refusing to do Sam’s portion. Which, quite frankly, was absurdly irritating. Even more so was the fact that Gabriel seemed to have no intention to help him with his brother. If he had just been paying attention, if he had taken those damn Red Hot’s seriously, he could have stopped Gabriel. But as he read his books and smiled as the ridiculous Taylor Swift song came on, he realized that he _totally saw it coming,_ and it didn’t bother him one bit.


End file.
